White Theology is not Right Theology
I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you to live in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel— which is really no gospel at all. Evidently some people are throwing you into confusion and are trying to pervert the gospel of Christ. But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach a gospel other than the one we preached to you, let them be under God’s curse! As we have already said, so now I say again: If anybody is preaching to you a gospel other than what you accepted, let them be under God’s curse!
Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.
We were crossing the street, about to start many hours of a Friday night at the bar with several drinks, a lot of junk food, and the best of company. Vince came into town from the Air Force and the two of us plus Mondo were always a Motley Crue of polar opposite yet somehow melding personalities. Vince had crossed the street, I was right behind him, and Mondo behind me. We went through the crosswalk but not before a grey sedan came barreling through. The car slowed when I went across, yet sped up when Mondo crossed. A few feet from hitting him, I came back toward the car, made some definitely unchristian hand gestures, and the car honked at me as it passed without man-slaughtering. I was livid. Why in the world would this random car blow through my friend? Did they not clearly see the crosswalk? Did they not see Mondo?
But Mondo was calm. Unfazed even. Talking to him afterward, he said “I’m just used to it.”
My privileged, narrow experience and perspective had not a clue what he meant. What was he “used to?” Why did nearly being ran over by a white woman not bother him? Why was he calm in spite of being a few feet from, bare minimum, getting seriously injured?
Fast forward a few months, and I was at the theater ready to see the Oscar buzz worthy “Get Out.”
I’m embarrassed to recall that last event. Majoring in sociology, the broadest, most expansive, and least monetarily rewarding of the humanities, I read Dubois. I read King Jr. I read Malcolm X. A few Maya Angelou poems made their way in some classes. And, extra confession time, I skimmed dozens of books from Cisneros, Alexie, and many other people of color.
I should’ve understood immediately that my close friend, a man I respect and admire so much, was “used to” nearly getting run over. To panicking when he saw red and blue flashing lights. To suddenly become silent upon hearing all the varieties of “white ignorance.”
(I often like making my own terms but I’m sure I’m borrowing a bit from ‘white fragility,’ ‘white supremacy,’ and so on)
I think all white people are on different levels of a graduated scale of what I’m calling “white ignorance.” I’m putting myself under the knife too. Yet, in fact, we will always be ignorant of an experience we’ve never had. Hence why our theology ought to be marked primarily by compassion and understanding rather than privilege and “objectivity.” But I’m getting ahead of myself.
The first “step” in white ignorance is direct racism. This we see in the Klan, in the David Dukes, in the Dylan Roofs of the world. Although this is likely the least populated of the steps of ignorance, the ones who have graduated to the next steps allow those on the first step to continue their violence and oppression unchallenged. These are the folks that most white people (myself included) can always claim not to be.
The second “step” in white ignorance is indirect racism. This is characterized by those who vote, advocate, or support institutions that continually suppress class ascension and advancement of people of color. The current president lands here (yet is oh so close to the first step), as do the Tiki torch gang, as does many talk radio and news agencies. Unconcerned with the plight of the poor (one could argue they care for unborn babies, to be fair), this ignorance is marked by the following kind of sentiment:
“I made it for myself, why can’t they? They just need to work harder.”
“Affirmative action? That’s reverse racism.”
“That used to be a good neighborhood but now it’s full of crime and hoodlums.”
This population is the least likely to graduate on the ignorance steps. Most of this populace are talking heads of an implicit form of white supremacy, instilling fear and ignorance primarily to those on the next step of ignorance.
The third “step” of white ignorance is passive racism. It is characterized, as Martin Luther King Jr. would say, by “the appalling silence of good people.” This non engagement from issues on race is arguably more damaging long term to people of color than the other two more “racist” steps. It is marked by caring about issues that pertain to you more than issues of your neighbor. I fall into this step often. I haven’t spoken up in the past when family members have made statements marked by first or second step ignorance. I have big social justice-y feelings of which I don’t act on all the time. I think many honest white people would admit this is often where they go. After all, “what can I do?”
The fourth step in white ignorance is the active “savior complex.” This is where white people might work in capacities to assist people of color but in the process make their work more about them than about the people they are serving. This I struggle with too. In many years serving students of color, I’d walk away from the work dwelling on how heroic I was for doing God’s work for the poor. This is problematic for two reasons: one, I thought primarily of my own heroism, not my student’s redemptive story. Jesus didn’t heal people and then brag about Himself. He talked, instead, about how it advanced His Father’s kingdom and how those He met found redemption. Second, by posturing myself as a “hero for the poor,” I’m distinguishing myself as distinct from the poor. Christ put emphasis on the first being last, and I arrogantly put myself first by helping the last. The disciples did this sort of thing too, and Jesus was quick to rebuke them harshly. Put simply, people of color may benefit from white folks advocating for them, but it’s counterbalanced if those white folks focus on how great of a savior they are.
The fifth step of white ignorance is the inactive savior complex. This is the most complex step to explain. Although there is a desire to not become a “white savior,” there’s still some covert actions and mentalities that prevent being a better ally to people of color. This could be having a shelf filled with mainly white authors, a movie collection marked by mainly white writers and directors, and so on. This could be subtle attempts to never be perceived as “that white person,” even in overt efforts to rebuke racism of the first and second steps, but it is more about not having the label racist instead of actually being an ally of people of color. Hard to pin down, and less ignorant than the other steps, yet still complicit in institutional racism (if less so).
Finally, the sixth step of white ignorance is non-compliant resistance to white supremacy. Put simply, this is the space where white people see themselves as part of the issue, work on their own implicit racism, and challenge other white people to do the same. Some level of ignorance will be inevitable. There ought always be room to dismantle as much ignorance as is possible, however. Yet, this is the most uncomfortable stage in a homogenous, white community, but is, as I’ll argue later, precisely where I believe Christ wants us to be. There is no room in Jesus kingdom to accept any rhetoric, ideology, societal system, or theology where certain people are privileged over others. We can’t believe systems are more important than people. White theology is not right theology.
Steps again just for reference:
Direct racism
Indirect racism
Passive racism
Active savior complex
Inactive savior complex
Non-compliant resistance to white supremacy
“Get Out” is a master class of being a genre less film. Part comedy, part horror, part drama, part parody, Jordan Peele layered every scene in such a way which demands multiple viewings. I believe the best creators say a lot with a little, and he does in two hours what can be dwelt on for two years without getting all the subtext (especially if you’re white).
I remember, however, walking out of the theater with three other white friends wondering how in the world we would talk about the film’s commentary on race relations, “the sunken place,” and class hierarchy… being all middle class white people. Nevertheless, I was excited about where the discussion might go.
The excitement ended, however, when one of them said…
“I just didn’t think it was very funny.”
“Yeah, I agree.”
For some reason, this confirmed for me that I shouldn’t press into the deeper messages of the movie. I was afraid to be “that white guy” amongst other white guys. I wanted acceptance, belonging, and my usual craving of being different faded when I thought I might get weird stares or “nothing” responses. This reaction was along the lines of the third step, or “inactive racism.” I was terrified to jump three steps into noncompliance of white supremacy because I didn’t want to lose face among my own race.
I think this is why white supremacy has merged into white theology in the American church. This is how Sunday morning becomes the most segregated hour of the week. This is how a church on one side of the city provides refuge for their immigrant congregants (or neighbors) and a different church on the other side of the city has no brown immigrant population at all.
Yet it’s not as simple as “white Christians are bad” and “Christian people of color are good.” I am, however, saying that spiritual segregation is bad, meanwhile, spiritual unity is good. This goes beyond doctrine, beyond politics, beyond our own individual experiences. This is about brothers and sisters in Christ loving each other well by prioritizing compassion toward other brothers and sisters who are different than us over and ahead of a theology which is comfortable, unchallenging, and presented only by people who look and talk and think like us.
I have three theology books written by people of color. 3. That’s it.
I have dozens and dozens of theology books. I’m that nerd that reads them for pleasure. But in all my spiritual questing I’ve only read two of the three books I bought. The other, written by Dr. King himself, I have on my shelf more to look good rather than for his words to convict and inspire me.
For my friends of color reading this, I am sorry. I apologize for church services where no one on stage looked like you. I apologize for community groups that never gave you space to actually describe what your experience has been like. I apologize for all the implicit messages you’ve received that have led you to believe “you’re crazy” for having perceived being slighted because of your race. This is not only wildly unbiblical, this also stands opposed to the heart of God. The God who made all cultures, all tongues, all races, and to whom we will all bow to on judgment day. He is the One who convicted me to write this and point the finger as much at myself as to other white believers. After all, when He sent His Son, the flesh He took on was brown, not white.
For my white friends reading this, we can not, must not, will not be burdened anymore by fear of being “that white person” to people of color or “that white person” to our other white Christian friends. Ignorance alone does not enforce racism, but racism, however, is always enforced by ignorance. Dismantling something as deeply entrenched as white supremacy will never be accomplished overnight or through the work of only one person. We all can, must, and will be better about this. It is our mandate, of which we must delight, to love and serve and cherish and believe in our friends of color, especially those who trust in the same savior we do.
There will always be more about us that is similar than is different. Said a different way, God has made His people more alike than “unlike.” The Psalmist describes “how good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity!” Paul appeals for us “in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another in what you say and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly united in mind and thought.” Jesus Himself concludes His prayer at Gethsemane thinking about more than just the twelve: “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.”
Jesus, when describing His future followers, you and me, believes that people will believe God sent him if we are all one. My American brothers and sisters, Chinese brothers and sisters, African brothers and sisters, Guatemalan brothers and sisters, English brothers and sisters, Indian brothers and sisters, Korean brothers and sisters, indigenous peoples brothers and sisters, and so on and so on, we preach the best gospel when we attain to be one together in perfect unity. This is an impossible task save for the grace of God alone. A grace God can bestow on us only if we approach Him with fear and trembling.
I need to do better. And I believe in a God who is longing for my betterment if only I check my ego at the door, carry it as a cross, and have Jesus lead me into His kingdom more and more everyday. A kingdom which John describes in Revelation as “a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!’”
Isaac is absolutely one of my favorite people ever. Warm, thoughtful, and always leaving traces of joy wherever he goes, being around his optimistic type 7 energy helps even out my melancholic type 4 energy. That, and we both love pop culture. More accurately, we love piecing together why certain things gain popularity while other things don’t. Often in our community group, we can go for a solid ten minutes quipping and quipping and quipping before realizing we are hogging the entire group’s conversation.
So when “Us” was in theaters, the second of Jordan Peele’s genre less films, I 100% knew I needed to see it with him (or my sister; I love enjoying art with passionate people). So after the two hour run time of surprising plot twists, eerie, eerie, suspense, Lupita Nyong’o’s super creepy voice, and a lot of solid dad jokes from Winston Duke, I was thrilled to check in with Isaac afterward. Often I enjoy shared connection and rumination over a film more than the film itself.
Isaac is Mexican. Spending limited time with him and his family, I highly respect and often envy the “everyone is close” vibes of his extended family. I am white as all get out (see what I did there?), but with him and in his family I am included. No question. No reservation. No hesitation. Because Isaac matters to me, Isaac’s family behave like I matter. This has been true of every single Mexican friend and family I’ve ever been around. Warmth is always paramount and prioritized. Further, in my own line of work, Mexican students always listen the first time. They are always respectful to me as their teacher. And they are always easy to bond with. All that’s needed is a soccer ball or basketball.
Isaac and I talked at length about the class commentary throughout Us. He talked about recognizing the signs of the plot twist of which I missed. We discussed the imagery of the “others” and why they wore the color bright red.
As he dropped me off at my house after a shared hug, I thought this is why I have to enjoy art from people of color. This is why I need to enjoy the art with my beloved brothers and sisters of color.
As I said before, even on the sixth step of white ignorance, there’s still a level of not knowing. Of not comprehending what is immediately understood by my friends of color. Of completely overlooking my bookshelf, my Spotify, and my heart to see where I still perpetuate racism.
Yet I am still trying to learn more. I’m still open to be rebuked by those brothers and sisters of color I love so much. And the only reason why I care about rooting out all my subtle and overt racist tendencies is because Jesus has called me to carry my cross to follow Him. One of my crosses is my prejudice. But I believe He will guide me in where I need to change, particularly when I am surrounded by a community of both white Jesus followers and Jesus followers of color. Only together can we do better. Only when my white brothers and sisters admit there’s a problem can we work to fix it. Only by the grace of God can we defeat hatred.
To end, I’ll quote one of the two people of color I’ve read on theology, Howard Thurman:
Community cannot for long feed on itself; it can only flourish with the coming of others from beyond, their unknown and undiscovered brothers.